Free Rebecca's Promise by Jerry S. Eicher

problem.”
    “What?” she asked.
    “Money. The checking account is empty,” he said flatly.
    “When is more coming in?” she asked.
    “I took some cattle in to the sale barn last week. It’ll be another week before we have the check.”
    “It’s that bad then,” she stated, more than asked, bitter feelings rising as they had so many other times when money was short. It brought her conversation with Luke to mind. “Maybe you should have been more concerned when my father left me with no money. If you had tried harder, the bishop might have been willing to do something with Emma.”
    He sighed deeply. “You know how I feel about that. Money isn’t the answer to everything. Just something to cause family feuds over. We must leave money matters in God’s hands.”
    Anger flooded through her. She bit her tongue. It would be no good to tell him what she thought—it would only complicate things.
    “God will surely supply,” Reuben concluded.
    “It would be nice if He supplied us with something now, when we need it,” she said, keeping her voice even.
    “I’m sure He will,” he replied. “We’ll make it somehow.”
    She said nothing more as he put his coat and boots back on and headed out the door. But one thing was clear to her: Something would have to be done.

C HAPTER T EN
     

     
    L uke kept his hat low on his head, even though the snow couldn’t reach him inside the single-seated buggy. Although the roads were nearly impassable for automobiles, one did pass him, going slowly down the road near where he turned toward Emma’s on South Base Road.
    Ahead of him and on the left, he made out the entrance to the home farm—now Emma’s farm—where he had gone as a child with his mother many times and where he now worked. The graveled driveway curled upward from the main road, cresting on a slight knoll three hundred yards in.
    A large red bank barn flanked the white two-story house. Behind the house were two more barns and metal structures that were built while his grandfather was still living. Fences came up to within a hundred feet of the front yard, leaving its dozen or so large oak trees standing free. Like solitary sentinels in a clump, they stood beside each other. They had been there since Luke could remember.
    He drove his buggy straight to the bank barn and parked under the overhang on the lower level before climbing out. Unhitching, he took the horse into the barn, tied it up, and ran over the list in his mind of what needed to be done that day. Emma would be expecting him to head straight to his duties. He supposed his mother’s concerns would simply have to wait for whenever there was time for them.
    After his horse was fed, he headed for the year-old New Holland front-end loader. He turned the key for the warm-up in preparation for starting, the display showing it needed nineteen seconds. Whilehe waited, he got out and opened the sliding door in the direction of the driveway.
    Behind him, his horse kicked vigorously on the side of the stanchion he had placed him into. “Quit it,” Luke shouted. The horse was now well-fed, so there was no reason for unhappiness.
    Sticking his head into the New Holland, the display told him the warm-up was done. He climbed in and turned the key. Almost new. Emma had told him last year to trade in the old New Holland at the equipment dealer in Rushville. He never mentioned such transactions at home, knowing how his mother would react. If he reported Emma’s expenditures, the news always caused a severe pained look to cross his mother’s face.
    He doubted whether Emma wanted the driveway cleared before he looked at the cattle, so he headed toward the pastures, pushing snow out of his way as he went. Cattle met him at the gate behind the house, their heads dusted with snow. He shooed them away before opening the gate. After driving through, he hopped back out to shut the gate behind him. Heading to the nearest shelter where the hay was stored, he chased more